Secrets of Valhalla (3 page)

A
t least, those were the words Buzz formed in his head. They sat on the tip of his tongue, fully formed, but he couldn't say them out loud.

He took a steadying breath. “I guess Friday the thirteenth has just always been kind of unlucky for me,” he said instead. “You saw what happened in the cafeteria today.” He frowned. “I just wish this day was over and it was Saturday already.”

“I don't know about that.” The girl leaned back against the tree and crossed her arms, as if to keep herself warm. “Saturdays are totally overrated in my opinion.”

“Overrated!” Buzz shook his head in disbelief. “Saturdays are totally epic. You get to sleep in. You don't have to go to school. You get to hang out with friends all day long. Watch sports, play sports, and get takeout. What's not to love?”

“That type of Saturday does sound pretty epic,” the girl conceded. “But back home, Saturday is always the day my parents argue the most. They argue about who should do the shopping. Who should do the gardening, who should do the—” She whacked a hand over her mouth. “Oh, man,” she mumbled. “Talk about oversharing. I'm always doing that. My therapist says my filters don't work properly.” She dropped her hand. “What I probably should have said is that I'm staying with my grandmother for a little while and she likes to plan enriching activities for Saturdays. She doesn't have a TV, let alone Wi-Fi, and certainly doesn't believe in getting takeout. We're talking liver and onions for dinner on all days ending with a Y.”

Buzz winced. “Holey pajamas. That is all kinds of miserable.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “Holey pajamas? Is that a well-known phrase in this part of the world?”

“It's one of my mum's sayings.” Buzz felt heat creep into his cheeks. He had no idea why he'd said it out loud. “Where's your home normally, then?” he asked quickly.

“New York. The Big Apple. The Melting Pot. New Amsterdam until 1664,” she replied. “Ever been?”

Buzz shook his head. His dad hated leaving Crowmarsh, which meant most holidays were spent camping in Tangley Woods. “I'd love to go, though. So many people. So much to do. I bet you never get bored there.”

The girl leaned forward and played with the frayed laces
of her Converse sneakers. “No, but you do get lonely. At least I do. I always kind of wished that I had a sibling. Your sister seems nice.”

Buzz thought about Tia and how she loved to interfere in his life. “Trust me. It's not all it's cracked up to be.”

“But at least you have someone to talk to—when things aren't great at home. Someone who'll understand.”

“I guess,” Buzz responded. He and Tia tended to avoid those types of conversations. They definitely never spoke about the frostiness that existed between their parents or how that had become glacial in the months before Mum's trip.

“You're a guy of few words, aren't you?” the girl said. “My parents say you have to talk the talk if you are going to walk the walk.” Her brow creased. “That's what they're doing right now. Talking about whether they're going to walk out on each other. Talking about whether Dad is actually going to move to the UK with us. But I'm not supposed to know that.” She whacked a hand over her mouth again. “I'm doing it again, aren't I?” she said through her fingers. “Oversharing? Grandmother says it's not dignified to air one's dirty laundry. But I think sometimes your washing machine may be broken and you just have to make the best of a bad situation, right?” She pinned him with her hazel gaze. “What do you think?”

“Um,” Buzz began, not really sure how to answer.

“Not um—the name is Amaryllis, but you can call me Mary.” The girl arched a dark, slightly messy eyebrow. “But never Scary Mary, just Mary, okay?”

“Okay,” he promised. “I'm Buzz.”

“Buzz, as in the sound a bee makes,” the girl mused. “Interesting. Did you know that bees are the only insects that make food that humans can eat?”

Buzz shook his head.

“Or that eating honey makes you smarter?”

Buzz shook his head again.
I bet she eats a lot of honey.

“Why are you named after the sound a bee makes, then?” Mary asked, hardly pausing for breath. “Is your mom an apiologist?”

“No. At least I don't think so. She's a botanist,” he said. “What's an apiologist?”

“It's a person who studies honeybees,” the girl replied. “While a person who keeps bees is called an apiarist.”

“Right.” Buzz could feel all the girl's facts raining down on him like hail. It wasn't wholly unpleasant—it just stung a bit. “Buzz is actually short for Buzzard. My name is Frederick Buzzard.”

“So you're named after a bird, not a bee. In fact, you've got a whole animal kingdom thing going on. That's awesome!”

“Awesome?”

“Yeah, you could have been named after a flower. Imagine how annoying that would be.”

“Er, I guess,” Buzz conceded, not that he could think of any boys' names that were flowers.

“Yeah, your name is definitely not on the annoying spectrum.”

“It's my father's name, really,” he found himself explaining. “I'm Frederick Buzzard the second, but strictly speaking I should be Frederick Buzzard the third because my father was named after the founder of the orphanage he was left at and—”

Mary began to chuckle.

“What?” Buzz questioned. “What's so funny?”

“I don't know,” she said. “There I was thinking you were the strong, silent type when actually you're quite verbose.”

Buzz was pretty sure verbose meant talkative, which seemed rich coming from Mary. “You're pretty chatty yourself, you know,” he pointed out.

“No filters, remember?” She looked at her watch, with its big, digital face. “I'd better get home. It's getting dark, and Grandmother will worry.” Mary jumped to her feet, held up her watch, and turned in a slow circle.

The watch gave a little beep as she faced one of the lanes that curved off to the left. A robotic voice reeled off a list of directions:

“Fifteen Glover Drive. One-point-five miles away. Stay on the path ahead.”

“Whoa!” Buzz scrambled to his feet. “Did your watch just tell you the way home in the voice of Darth Vader?”

Mary's expression was smug. “I made it using parts from my dad's GPS and my cell phone a couple weeks ago. Dad was delighted, obviously.” She polished the face of the watch on the material of her leggings. “It's still got a couple glitches, but
it's pretty darn impressive.”

“Your humbleness is astounding,” Buzz replied. “Come on, you don't live that far from me. I'll show you a shortcut.” He bent down, shoved the soda can he'd been kicking into his backpack, and slung the bag over his shoulder. “I'll take you through Tangley Woods. Don't worry, I live in there, so I won't get us lost.”

“Ahem!” Mary gave a theatrical cough. “I'll draw your attention to exhibit A.” She tapped her watch. “I can't get lost with this innovation strapped to my wrist. But walk me home if you like. You can tell me what else there is to do in Crowmarsh.”

“Sure.” He turned to her as they began to walk. “So, the first thing you to need to know is that there's absolutely nothing to do in Crowmarsh. The second thing you need to know is that absolutely nothing ever happens in Crowmarsh.”

Mary laughed. “I'm sure it isn't that bad! I was born here, you know, but then my parents moved to the States.”

“Lucky escape,” Buzz said.

“Maybe. But you get to live in the middle of a forest. That's pretty lucky if you ask me.”

“Prof built our house in Tangley Woods when my sister was just a baby and before I was even born,” Buzz explained as they entered the line of trees that made up the border of the forest.

“Prof?”

“It's what I call my father.”

“I see,” Mary said, and Buzz had the feeling that she did see a whole lot. He knew it was odd that he called his father Prof, but the title of Dad just didn't sit right with him.

“Prof's kind of obsessed with this place.” He talked fast to cover the awkwardness. His gaze took in the familiar play of light that slanted through the trees. “He thinks this wood is the epicenter of many key mythologies. A place where people's beliefs have all converged through the centuries. The Tangley Woods theory is what he's famous for, why he's on TV. He just hasn't proven it.”

“Oh?” Mary said. “How long has he been trying to prove it?”

“Twenty years, give or take.”

“That's a long time.”

“It sure is.” What he didn't say was that by now, most people at the university thought that the Prof was a joke, which is why he didn't get invited to the annual garden party anymore.

They were deep in the forest now, the trees silent witnesses to their conversation. The light was gradually fading—the shadows converging—but Buzz wasn't worried. He knew the woods' paths better than anyone.

“Wow, your mom has got to be the most laid-back person in the world,” Mary said after a moment. “If my dad tried to build a house in a forest so that he could be closer to his work, my mom would go nuclear.”

“That's not her way,” Buzz explained. His mum never got angry. Besides, she loved this place as well. She'd crawl around
on the mossy ground of Tangley Woods for hours at a time, occasionally giving squeals of delight when she unearthed a spongy spore of fungi. No wonder Theo Eddows liked calling him Freaky Buzzard—his family was pretty odd. How many mothers dried poisonous plants in the airing cupboard instead of towels? How many fathers wrote books on the importance of caves, root systems, and forgotten gods?

He could almost hear his mother's voice in his ear.
“Stuff Theo Eddows and stuff being normal. We are who we are and we live where we live.”
He could feel her hands on his shoulders now.
“Do you feel how old this place is, Buzz? These trees were here long before Theo Eddows, and they will be here long after him.”
Buzz's chest suddenly felt very tight, and for a moment he couldn't breathe as sadness pushed all the air from his body. She'd left home six months ago now. Deep in the Amazon cloud forest, she'd been looking for a rare plant that would change the face of medicine forever. And then she was gone. Now no one could tell them where Natasha Buzzard and her team of botanists were. And as much as Buzz tried to tell himself that Mum would be home soon, it was getting harder.

“Hey, Buzz, you okay?” Mary asked. “You don't look too great.”

Buzz took a gulping breath. “I'm fine—rea—”

“Help!”
The hoarse cry shattered the quiet of the woods. “Is someone there? Help me, for the love of the gods, help me!”

M
ary gripped Buzz's arm, cold fingers sinking into his skin. “Did you hear that?” Her hazel eyes were wide behind her glasses in the gloom of the forest.

Buzz put a finger to his lips and nodded.

“HELP ME!”

The words ripped at the silence again and he listened hard, trying to figure out which direction the cry had come from. It wasn't easy. The words seemed to bounce off the trees like pebbles from a slingshot, and his own heartbeat whooshed and ebbed in his ears. He concentrated on the voice, using the map in his head to try to locate its origin.

“I think she might be near the lake.” He turned to Mary. “You'd better stay here. It'll be safer for you.” He was proud that he sounded braver than he felt.

“This is not a nineteenth-century novel,” Mary shot back. “And I'm not some helpless heroine who is going to stand around wringing her hands. I'm coming with you.”

Buzz hadn't read many nineteenth-century novels (none, in fact), but he got the message.

Mary cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hold on, we're coming,” she yelled. “Keep talking and we'll find you.”

“Quick! You must be quick.” The terrified voice replied. “Before he comes back.”

Buzz pointed deep into the woods and tried not to notice that his hand was shaking. “This way.”

They tore through the trees, the woman's voice punctuating their journey through the quiet of the forest.

Buzz was the fastest player on his soccer team and ran for the track team as well, so he expected that Mary might struggle to keep up. She didn't.

They came to a clearing just left of Mornings Lake, where a tree with deeply ridged bark stood in regal isolation. It looked a bit like an ash tree, but Buzz had never seen an ash with bark this color before—charcoal gray with slivers of silver crisscrossing the entire surface.

It's tall,
he thought.
Really tall.
Even tipping his head way back, Buzz couldn't see the top of it. The ground surrounding the base of the tree pulsed with energy, and stones danced on top of the soil like popping corn in a hot pan. The tree's trunk was the thickest Buzz had ever seen and it would easily need twenty people holding hands to get around its circumference.

“Who's there?” The broken voice seemed to come from the tree itself, but then Buzz saw her—a woman strapped to the massive trunk by a thick rope that looped around her waist. He hadn't noticed her at first because her gray suit, tattered and smeared with mud, blended so perfectly with the bark of the tree.

The woman's blond hair hung in rat tails around her face, but Buzz caught a flash of amber eyes as she turned her head at their approach. “Thank the gods,” she gasped. “You must help me. And quickly, before Nidhogg comes. He has been summoned.”

Her voice was hoarse from screaming, but Buzz was sure he recognized it. “Wait a second, I know you!” he said. “You're Eleanor Bright, the weatherwoman.”

Eleanor's unusual amber eyes held his gaze as she nodded. “Yes. Sort of.”

“I can't believe it's really you!” Buzz exclaimed.

“Buzz, this is not the time to get star-struck.” Mary bent down and began to scan the rope that strapped Eleanor to the tree. “You can get her autograph another time.”

“No, you don't understand,” Buzz said, even as his eyes searched the rope for the knot that must be securing it to the tree. “Eleanor Bright has been missing for almost a whole week now. It's been all over the news.”

Eleanor blinked rapidly for a moment, her whole face seeming to shift in and out of focus. Then she flashed an impossibly white smile. “Really? Did I make national news?”
Eleanor's voice sounded different. Younger somehow.

“You did, actually,” Buzz said. “Even
Crimewatch
.”

“Hey you two, none of that matters,” Mary said impatiently. “I can't see a knot here.”

Buzz sprinted around the whole tree and shook his head. “I can't see one, either.”

“Strange. It's got to be somewhere.” Mary planted her knees in the earth and reached out for the rope. “Perhaps if we give it a really good tu—” She broke off with a howl of pain and fell backward.

“Mary, are you okay?” Buzz knelt beside her and gently sat her up.

Mary stared at the rope even as she cradled her right hand, where red blisters bloomed on her palm. “It's not a normal rope, Buzz. Look!”

A neon blue flame was now racing along the length of the rope, swiftly turning it into a thick lasso of fire, which encircled the weatherwoman.

It flared brightly, illuminating the golden threads in Eleanor's hair and the fear on her face. The weather woman opened her mouth to scream, but then her features blurred again, and her expression changed to one of absolute calmness. It was as if someone had turned the page of a book and Buzz was now seeing a new chapter. He realized that the blaze was not even touching Eleanor, and almost idly the woman brought her lips together and blew on the flames.

The blue fire instantly dulled, solidified, and then split
itself into three threads that plaited themselves into rope once more.

“What. Exactly. Is going on here?” Buzz's voice was a croak.

“There's no time for that now.” The voice was different again, deeper and more authoritative.
Eleanor Bright is herself but not herself,
Buzz thought.
But how is that even possible?

“We need to think of another way to free me.” She pointed upward. “I need to climb this tree and gather the Runes of Valhalla. It's the only way to stop him.”

Mary's face was tight with pain, but she didn't once take her gaze off the weatherwoman. “We're not helping until you tell us what's going on. All of it.”

Eleanor inclined her head.“This rope that binds me is enchanted. If I try to break it, it turns to fire. A fire I cannot cross,” she explained. “I thought the enchantment might not initiate if a normal mortal touched it. I was wrong. I'm sorry that you got hurt, but you've got to find a way to free me.”

“All of it,” Mary repeated. “I said tell us all of it.”

“There's no time—” the woman began, but something in Mary's stony expression stopped her. “I have been left here for the dragon Nidhogg,” she said as calmly as if she was reading a weather report. “The dragon lives in one of the underworld realms, deep in the earth, and Loki has summoned it to take me prisoner and guard me until he has found all the runes.” Eleanor began to shake, her composure cracking. “Loki has escaped his prison and is searching for the Runes of Valhalla right now. If he manages to activate them and absorb their
power, we are all lost.”

“Loki?” Buzz's voice had graduated from a croak to a squeak as he cast a quick look at Mary. They'd just been talking about that guy. “Enchanted rope and a dragon?” he continued. “You cannot be serious.”

Eleanor began to honk with laughter, and for a moment Buzz was reminded of his mother. She had a completely unexpected laugh as well.

“I don't think I have ever been more serious, young man,” the weatherwoman said.

“But dragons don't exist!” Buzz's voice echoed around the forest, taunting him with its shrillness.

“Actually,” Mary interjected. “There is the Komodo dragon, which has been known to grow as large as nine feet.”

“Not now, Mary.”

“Sorry.”

“Loki doesn't exist, and enchantments definitely don't exist.” Buzz made sure his voice was a bit quieter this time. “Because magic doesn't exist.”

Eleanor's jaw clenched, impatience radiating from her like sunbeams. “And so how do you explain what you just saw?” she asked. “This rope turned to fire and back again. You saw it. This is Loki's magic.”

“It's got to be some kind of trick.” Buzz jumped to his feet and started peering into the dense foliage of the forest. “I get it—I'm on a reality show, right? One of those prank ones.” He started waving his hands wildly. “Hey, camera people, you can
come out now. They don't pay you enough to sit out there in the cold.”

“Stop waving like a maniac and look at my hand.” Mary stood and held out her palm. “That's no trick.”

“And I'm no trickster.” Eleanor's voice was soft. “That title belongs to Loki, and he has left me here for Nidhogg.” The last words were thick with painful defeat. “My real name is Sunna, and I have taken control of Eleanor's body. An eternity ago, my kind were worshiped as gods and goddesses. We were the day guardians, tasked with keeping the natural order of time.” She laughed bitterly. “Then, it came to pass that I and five of the other day guardians battled Loki—the guardian of Saturday—and imprisoned him. The battle left us with only a shadow of our former abilities, and we were weak.” Her fingers clenched, then unclenched slowly. “Odin, the head of our council, issued a prophecy. He said we would face Loki again in the Ragnarok and that we must be ready.” She nodded to herself. “So we placed what little was left of our magic into stone runes, hoping a long rest would help to rejuvenate our powers. We then put our god selves into a deep sleep, dormant within the minds of our most faithful followers. Since then, I and the other day guardians have traveled down the bloodlines of their descendants.”

She touched her neck, and for the first time Buzz noticed the lightning-shaped pendant that sat at the hollow of her throat. Sunna seemed to come back to herself, and she stared at them, her amber eyes almost appearing to glow. “Loki will
soon discover that I lied to him.” Her voice was urgent. “I told him that the runes were in the Realm of Valhalla. They are not.” She grabbed Buzz's hand with surprising strength for someone so slight. “He plans to make the day guardians pay for what we did to him and his family. But trust me when I tell you that the whole world will suffer.”

Buzz knew he wasn't the smartest—not like his parents, Tia, or even Mary. And right now, he was treading water in a sea of questions that threatened to drown him. But one thing was clear:
Eleanor—no, Sunna needs our help
.

“Okay,” he said. “Let's say for one moment that this rope is enchanted, and that you are a goddess who needs to find some stone rune thingies to stop Loki—and I'm not saying I really believe that. But if I did . . . How do we free you?”

Sunna sat up a bit straighter. “I've been thinking about that. You'll need to find something that will break the flame's circle once it has been triggered.”

Mary leaped to her feet. “Buzz, you still got that soda can?”

He nodded and reached into his backpack to retrieve it. “You thirsty? It's empty, you know.”

Mary rolled her eyes, took the can, and pointed at a symbol on the side. “Aluminum. It has a decent heat-resistance threshold. We'll get the rope to turn to fire and then break the line of flame with the can.”

“Oh, right,” Buzz said, feeling all kinds of dumb. “Good idea.”

Sunna nodded. “It's an excellent idea. It might just give me enough time—”

She broke off as the ground just to their left made a terrible yawning sound. The earth was opening up.

“Nidhogg,” Sunna breathed, staring at the widening chasm. “Quick, he's coming. Throw me the can.”

Mary launched her precious missile and Sunna caught it. In one swift movement, she touched the rope with a finger, and it burst into flame. She held the can in the path of the fire, and for a second, the scorching flare of the enchanted rope was broken. The goddess launched herself forward, and Buzz and Mary each grabbed a hand and pulled her to her feet. She was free.

Buzz noticed straightaway that Sunna's hands were hot—much hotter than could ever be considered normal—but the thought was chased away by the goddess's dazzling smile. “Thank you,” she gasped. “Now let me ascend the tree and find the runes—”

An awful screech tore at Buzz's eardrums as something red, fast, and huge shot out of the torn earth near the tree. It was an enormous beast. Buzz could only take it in as fragments: a tail that flashed with blue sparks and carried the acrid scent of sulfur, a yellow bloodshot eye, a mouth that stretched open to reveal glistening, needle-thin teeth.

“No, no,” Sunna cried as the muscled tail, rippling with iridescent scales, whipped toward her and wound itself around her midriff.

“Hold on to us,” Buzz commanded as he and Mary gripped Sunna's hands even more tightly. “We won't let go.”

The dragon's tail pulled again, and Buzz felt like his arms might pop from their sockets. But still he held on.

The tail snapped up into the air, taking all three of them with it, and the force of it pushed Buzz's cheeks back into a mockery of a smile. He broke through the canopy of the trees, catching a dizzy blur of blue and clouds, and then the tail slammed down again. A shooting pain lanced through his temple as Buzz hit the ground. His fingers released just for a second, but it was enough, and he went tumbling across the forest floor.

His cheek rested against the roughness of the leaves, his world muffled and in soft focus. He had a skull-cracking headache, and the urge to be sick was too strong. He retched.
Get up,
he told himself, but his body wouldn't listen.

“Yer need to move,” he heard a gruff voice cry, and then he saw a flash of red fur dart to his side. It pushed at him, jabbing at his ribs. It hurt, but Buzz rolled over.

The tip of the dragon's tail landed with a crack, leaving a fissure in the ground where moments before, Buzz's head had been.

He forced himself to stand. The world was screamingly silent and moved in slow motion. The flash of fur was gone, but he could see that Mary had also been thrown across the clearing by the dragon. She was only now staggering to her feet.

The dragon was burrowing its way back underground but its tail still gripped Sunna in a crushing embrace just a few
meters from the ground. “Take this. It will help you remember what has happened to you.” The goddess ripped the lightning pendant from her neck and let it fall to the ground. “Find the Runes of Valhalla. Use them to seek out the sleeping day guardians. It's the only way to stop Loki. The only way to save your realm.”